Send Offs

May. 31st, 2008 09:49 am

Fandom: SGA/SG1

Characters: Jack/Rodney

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Smut

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Beta: mgbutterfly betad for me, and sherriaisling reassured me that I wasn't completely crazy

Summary: Jack thinks about apologizing, but what would he say, really? I'm sorry that you completely took me apart and I had to fuck you as hard as I could.

Kink: (10) Roleplay/AU (misc)

Author's Note: So this would be an AU, and since I got misc. as a prompt I went with a prostitute AU because I can, damnit! And because the dirty old woman in me likes to believe that's how Rodney paid his way through college. And you may have noticed I have something of a thing for DH when he's all young and porn on legs. According to the interwebs, there's a sixteen year age difference between them, and Rodney is seventeen in this, if that squicks you. This author's note is too long! I end it now!

hr

Jack hadn't intended to take anyone back to his hotel room. As far as his plans for the evening went things had been fairly cut and dry. Go out, have a good time, one last hurrah before he was deployed again. Things had gone perfectly according to that plan, but somewhere between having a good time and getting in that one last hurrah, Jack had ended up talking to the kid sitting beside him at the bar.

That moment, he decides, had probably been when his night took a dramatic turn for the unplanned.

In the smoky bar the kid had been all soft blond curls, big blue eyes, and a sharp mouth. He'd been drinking water, but hadn't protested when Jack bought him a beer, which had, really, only been a gesture of goodwill. What kind of asshole would let someone sit in a bar drinking water? Not the kind of asshole Jack was.

The beer had, unfortunately, probably been his downfall. The kid had nice hands, pale fingers wrapped loose around the dark bottle, and his lips fit around the smooth glass like they were made to have something between them. Jack had watched him swallow, and said, "You wanna get out of here?" knowing it was hardly the best pick up he'd ever used, but just drunk enough not to give a shit.

The kid had looked at him for a long moment, lips shiny with beer, blue eyes sharp and intelligent. Then he'd made a face and sighed, leaned in close to say into Jack's ear, "You seem like a nice guy, so I'll give you a heads up. I'm probably a more expensive date than you're looking for."

Jack had said, "Oh," looking the kid up and down. Tight jeans with the knees worn out, a shirt that clung to his skin, and he hadn't exactly been anywhere close to Jack's mental image of a hooker, but Jack could see it. Really, that should have been when Jack got out of his seat and took himself back to his hotel, alone, to sleep it off. Instead, Jack had said, "How expensive?"

And that was how Jack ended up with another person in his hotel room, the kid reminding him for the third time as Jack shuts the door, "If I'm not back in an hour, Mary calls the cops." Jack wonders if he looks the type to kill a hooker, and then decides that it's probably best to err on the side of caution in that particular line of work.

Jack says, shrugging out of his jacket, "What if we need more than an hour?"

The kid doesn't say anything, and Jack turns to look at him. He's smirking, slouching with his hips cocked forward, his thumbs hooked into his pockets. Jack feels a rush of want burn through the haze of alcohol, the kid's voice startling him, "In the unlikely event you can still move after an hour, you give me some more of that padding you have in your wallet and I call her to let her know I'll be late."

Jack raises his eyebrows, "You're a cocky son of a bitch."

The kid waves a hand, a surprisingly broad gesture, stepping into Jack's space and pressing up against him, "Just very good at my job, actually." Close up the kid smells like liquor and smoke, his body warm and strong against Jack's. Those long, clever fingers that had distracted Jack in the bar are sliding up Jack's arms, now, across his shoulders, hooking into the neck of his shirt.

The kid tilts his head up to look at Jack from under his eyelashes, and Christ, but he looks just like sin itself. His voice is low and intimate, "You know I charge hourly, right? And the clock is running while you stand there catching flies."

Jack grunts, reaching for the kid, leaning in to kiss him automatically and the kid twists his face to the side, making an impatient sound. The kid snaps, "Look, I get that you're new to this, but you're paying to fuck me, not to kiss me or woo me. Do I need to explain some more?"

Jack rolls his eyes, "How do you suggest we do this then, kid?" He's starting to think this was a mistake, and he'd call it off except the kid is already carrying around a chunk of his cash, and Jack's so hard he could hammer nails.

"Fuck, I thought you'd never ask," there's nothing but scorn and impatience in the kid's voice. He grabs handfuls of Jack's shirt, shoving him towards the bed, continuing in the same sharp tone, "Do you at least know how you want to fuck me? Fuck. Do I have a sign on my ass telling the world that I'm here to take their paid-sex cherry? Don't answer that. Sit down."

Jack sits, amused despite himself. The kid never shuts up, and he's finding that oddly appealing. Might be that he just likes watching the kid's mouth move. His cock certainly does. The kid stands in front of him, toeing his shoes off, gaze sharp and appraising, like he's deciding something. Jack lets him think, watching him, all pale skin and sharp features, a surprising amount of intelligence in his light eyes.

And a surprising amount of youth. Jack shifts, suddenly uncomfortable, because there's a difference between looking young and being young, and the kid looks like he probably belongs in the latter category. Jack opens his mouth to ask how old he is, when the kid makes a sharp, triumphant sound, and pulls his shirt off over his head.

Jack has a lot of sensory information to take in all at the same time. The kid's got shit loads of that pale, smooth skin, broken by his darker nipples. He's also got hoops in his nipples, catching and reflecting the light, lying against his chest. Jack grunts, reaching automatically to squeeze at his dick through his jeans, because that's not something he's seen much of before, but he appreciates it.

The kid is still smirking, his curls messier now, his hands working at the button and zipper on his tight jeans. The kid is shaved, his cock dark and half-hard. He has to shimmy to get out of his jeans, and Jack watches him squirm around. Jack rocks up into his hand, rapidly forgetting why he ever thought this was a bad idea.

When the kid is naked he straightens up, a little foil packet held between two of his fingers. The kid raises his eyebrows, "Are you capable of using this or do I need to handle that as well?" Jack blinks at him, as innocently as he can manage, and the kid rolls his eyes, grumbling, "Fuck. You are completely useless, scoot up the bed, come on."

Jack is sure he's never had a thing with being bossed around before. He wouldn't have expected to discover he had one for being bossed around by someone he was paying for sex. But his dick is only getting harder and so Jack scoots back onto the bed, until he's sitting against the headboard.

The kid climbs onto the bed one leg at a time, his eyes suddenly darker, half lidded, when he crawls slowly up the mattress. There's a slight awkwardness to his movements, and Jack thinks again about how young he is, how young he's got to be, but then the kid is straddling Jack's lap, his hands on Jack's shoulder, his ass right over Jack's aching cock.

Jack's breath escapes in a whoosh.

The kid smirks that damn smug grin of his some more, leaning forward and nipping at the edge of Jack's jaw, sliding his hands slowly down Jack's chest. When the kid pauses, flicking his thumbs across Jack's nipples, Jack grunts, surprised, hearing the kid chuckle low and dirty against his skin.

After a moment the kid continues his exploration of Jack's chest, which Jack feels would really go better with his shirt off, but hell, he's not the professional here. He keeps his opinion to himself. When the kid's fingers stumble over Jack's dogtags he looks up, dragging a hand back up Jack's chest, finding the chain around Jack's neck and pulling them out from under Jack's shirt.

The kid raises his eyebrows, turning the tags over in his long fingers. When he looks up his blue eyes are sharp, like he's fitting together another piece of the puzzle. The kid leans in close to Jack's ear, winding the chain around one of his fingers until it's pulling at Jack's neck, "Should I be calling you 'sir'?"

Jack grunts, rocking his hips up against the kid because never once in his life has he thought about that as hot, but he is now. He blames the kid, with his hot breath and his knowing fingers, sliding down across Jack's stomach now, tracing the muscles there absently before moving lower.

When the kid pulls his zipper down, Jack feels more than hears it, grunting and winding his fingers into the sheets when the kid reaches into his pants to grip his cock. Jack expects for there to be some comment about how big or great he is, because that's how he always figured whores talked, but the kid just pulls his cock out, not even bothering with pushing his pants or boxers down.

Jack is surprised by how low his voice has gone when he says, "Doesn't this work better with me naked?"

The kid looks up at him, those damn big blue eyes, those thick lashes, "Didn't we decide to let me do the work here?" The kid pauses, one side of his mouth crooking up, "Sir?" Jack bites his bottom lip, his cock jerking in the kid's grip, watching the kid smirk at him. "That's what I thought."

The kid strokes his hand up and down Jack's cock, which is already as hard as Jack can ever remember being. He works his fingers harder into the blankets, grunting at the touch, at the sight of the kid's crooked mouth set all smug and knowing.

It feels like a small eternity, a stretch of ridiculous, heady pleasure, before the kid takes his hand away with one last swipe of his thumb over the head. The kid tears the condom packet open easily, cuts a quick, sharp look at Jack's face before fitting it into the circle of his lips, and then shifting back smoothly.

The kid rolls the condom on with his fucking mouth, and that's a new one. Jack thumps his head back against the cheap picture frame on the wall over the bed, his hips lifting automatically. There's an apology halfway off his lips before he realizes that the kid is just taking it, his lips stretched obscenely around Jack's cock.

Jack grunts out, "Fucking Christ," and the kid looks up at him from beneath his eyelashes, hair falling forward into his face, sucking on Jack's cock as he does. The kid hums a question in the back of his throat and Jack pants, his hips jerking, the kid's throat relaxing, letting Jack's cock go deep as he can get it.

And okay, so apparently there actually is something to be said for a professional blow job. Jack wants to squeeze his eyes shut, to just concentrate on the hot wet pressure around his dick, but watching the kid move up and down the length of his cock, his cheeks hollowed, his eyes locked on Jack's, is too good to pass up. Jack groans, deep and guttural, only dimly aware that the kid has one hand on Jack's thigh, holding himself steady as he sucks Jack's cock like that's the only thing in the world he has to do.

Jack loses complete track of time, hell, he almost loses track of how to breathe. The kid can do wicked things with his tongue, and he keeps his teeth tucked away, alternating his tricks with long slow slides that have him swallowing around the swollen head of Jack's cock, his nose pressing against Jack's groin.

The kid pulls off slowly, swirling his tongue around the head of Jack's cock, one side of his mouth twitching up, and Jack has to reach down and fist a hand in all those curls. The kid looks surprised when Jack pulls him away instead of pushing him down, blinking quickly, his mouth red and swollen and wet.

The kid's voice is rough, "Problem, sir?"

Jack grunts, grabbing his cock and squeezing hard, because goddamnit but he is not going to come until he's fucked the kid. He paid good money for it. Jack has to stop and start twice before he finally manages, "Want to fuck you."

"So you do have an opinion." The roughness of the kid's voice doesn't do anything to take away the sharpness. The kid grins crookedly at him again, God, those lips, Jack is never going to be able to forget how they look, "I was beginning to wonder. Let go of my hair so I can ride you. Sir."

"Jesus," Jack lets go automatically, the words alone straining what control he has left.

The kid shifts up, knees on either side of Jack's hips, his hand on Jack's cock again, rubbing something that's cool even through the latex of the condom down over him. Jack opens his mouth to protest, because he's pretty sure the kid should stretch or something, Jack doesn't want to hurt him. Then the kid is sinking down onto him, the head of Jack's cock sliding inside his body, already slick and ready, and Jack can't say a damn thing. The kid says, voice breathier than it was, "It's extra if I make you scream for God when you come."

Jack tips his head back, tendons in his neck straining tight, grabbing the kid's hips and fuck it, he'll pay the extra for any bruises, he needs something to hold onto. The kid sinks down ridiculously slowly, and then settles himself in Jack's lap, Jack's cock inside him.

Jack grips at the kid's hips, breathing fast and shallow, pleasure dancing like fire up and down his spine. The kid's voice is right beside Jack's ear when his speaks, his hands on Jack's chest and shoulder again, "Still with me, sir?"

There are words, right on the tip of Jack's tongue, but then the kid shifts up, working his hips in a perfect twist of motion. Jack aches, his cock throbbing, holding off orgasm with everything he has. He barely remembers his own name, lost in the tightness of the kid around him, the hot breath moving across his ear and neck, the clench and release of the kid's fingers in his shirt as he works himself up and down Jack's cock.

Jack grunts, the kid nipping at his earlobe, trailing the tip of his tongue along the edge. His hand moves automatically, stumbling across the kid's stomach, finding his cock, hard and weeping. Jack isn't thinking when he fists it, but the sound the kid makes sets off fireworks behind Jack's eyes, needy and desperate, like he's been waiting this whole time for Jack to touch him.

Which is stupid, because the kid is a fucking whore, but a damn good one, Jack is willing to admit. Jack works the kid's cock, listening to the sounds that fall off those lips of his, the kid's grip on his shirt getting tighter and tighter, the movement of his hips growing more ragged.

Jack is losing it, grunting and panting, his other hand sliding up the kids back, curling his hand over the kid's shoulder. Jack gets his feet flat on the bed, thrusting up hard into the kid's body, pulling him down with the hand on the kid's shoulder.

The kid pants into Jack's ear, his voice gone thin and reedy, "Just like that, sir, just like that, yes," and that's it. What little of Jack's control was left goes out the window, he rolls them, pushing the kid down into the mattress, fucking him hard, hips snapping desperately, fisting the kid's cock, yanking on the kid's hair with his other hand, finding the kid's neck, biting at the long, pale line of his throat.

The kid grips at Jack's back, keening in the back of his throat, and Jack grunts, "Come on, come on, fuck, please," barely even aware of what he's saying, his face pressed up against the kid's throat, the kid somehow bent in half under him, his hips still thrusting, hard and ragged. The kid arches up beneath him, a feat all on its own, his cock jerking in Jack's hand, come slicking everything up.

All Jack can feel is the kid clenching around him, ass squeezing tight, and that's it, the final straw. Jack shouts something he doesn't hear, coming and coming and coming into the condom, the world going white behind his eyes for a long moment.

When Jack blinks the spots away his face is still mashed against the kid's shoulder, his cock buried up the kid's ass, his fingers tangled in the kid's hair. Jack grunts, letting go, pushing slowly up to his elbows, then his hands.

The kid's hair is darker now, tangled and curling up from sweat. His blue eyes are heavy lidded, his mouth still swollen from Jack's cock. There's a dark bruise on his neck, the shape of Jack's mouth already purpling up, and Jack winces.

The kid is still almost folded in half, in what has to be an uncomfortable position, and Jack pulls out of him awkwardly, hearing the soft sound the kid makes when Jack's cock slides free. The kid lays splay limbed across the bed, come smeared across his stomach, though a fair amount of it appears to have made it onto Jack's shirt as well.

Jack flounders, not sure what to do at this point. He settles for removing the condom, tying it off and padding to the bathroom to clean his dick off. Grabbing a wet rag for the kid in his bed is habit.

When Jack gets back in the room the kid is walking around, his pants up around his waist but hanging open. He's leaning over the dresser, scowling in the mirror at the bruises on his neck and at his waist. When Jack steps up behind him, dragging his eyes over the kid's ass and back, the kid snaps, "You're an asshole, you know that? Fucking biting me. Jesus Christ."

Jack thinks about apologizing, but what would he say, really? I'm sorry that you completely took me apart and I had to fuck you as hard as I could. It doesn't seem appropriate. Instead, Jack clears his throat, his voice still thick and rough when he says, "I think you should call your friend and tell her you'll be late."

The kid meets Jack's eyes in the mirror, and smirks.

::go to Send Offs 2 —>::

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